


Flashback, 1533

by brutti_ma_buoni



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/pseuds/brutti_ma_buoni
Summary: Catherine has thoughts. They all seem to go in one direction.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Flashback, 1533

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unrulyangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrulyangels/gifts).



> There is mention of the historical deaths of both characters here. But they are very much still with us. (And each other.)

So being replaced sucks. Being replaced from your actual literal royal destiny sucks worse. Being replaced when you can see why he fancied her more? Blows.

Catherine’s over it now. It took a few centuries, but she’s over it. 

Anne’s just who she is. Opens that mouth, never knows what’s going to come out. Or opens that notebook, letter, phone, app, whatever, never knows what’s going to come out whether it’s on lips, on page or screen. And then she recognises where it’s gold, and she hones that, because she’s got a wicked, talented tongue, hasn’t she?

Catherine’s completely over it. 

You grow up at the Spanish Court, you learn to hold your tongue. Even the princesses, even the princesses destined to be queens, you learn. Careless talk costs crowns, you see. You never know who’s listening, and who they’re telling. You never know what the consequences will be if you speak your mind. Heads could roll, literally. Looking back, maybe she should have taught Anne that. But she was so much fun, that lippy, chippy girl. Brought up in Kent, Dad’s big at court, sister’s a sweet tart sweetheart (can you tell Anne told the queen that one? Of course she did). She had freedom. Nobody watching Annie wherever she went. Not till she chose to make them notice. 

It’s in the past. It’s done. 

The French court, you see? That’s where Anne grew up. Not like the Spanish, was it? All fashions and flirting, not priors and penance, and headdresses like gables to lock the women away. Even before the Lutheran thing, I bet Anne never said her rosary. It’s not that she doesn’t believe, it’s that she believes in herself. She doesn’t look back. Never second-guesses. Luther wouldn’t approve, but she approved of him, right? All that women, song and no confessions needed? (Though that’s a misinterpretation of the Protestant beliefs, apparently. So says _someone_ , and she should know. She’s the one who was flirting with it all. Would have flirted with Luther, if she’d ever met him. Catherine knows that for sure. You can’t stop Anne from flirting. Or, only with an axe.)

Forgotten. Oublié. Olvidada. De nada.

Most of Catherine’s ladies in waiting were just like the queen that Catherine wanted to be. Born to it. Intense. Pious. Getting a bit staid, to be honest? Seeing Anne land among them, like a phoenix in a pigeonloft… So shiny, and fiery, and everyone in this massive feathery flutter because she’s _not right for us_. But it was _fun_. Catherine was so glad she was there. 

Now that really is in the past. Let it rest.

She wore yellow when Catherine died. Does everyone know that? Probably. That hurt. Catherine felt like there was something between the two of them, till then. Not friendship or anything. But parity. Respect. Something mutual. Catherine would have worn black for her. It’s what queens do. (Well, Catherine wears black all the time, anyway. And especially in the convent. But it’s the principle. No gloating. That’s not classy.)

Of course, Anne never said she was classy. Lucky her. 

So over ~~her~~ _it_. So over it. 

But overall, Catherine’s glad she went first, in the Dead Wives Stakes. She was the first married. First to die. We should follow our rank. (Cleves says she’s wrong, but then, she would. Fourth in, last out. Happy on her own. Couldn’t care less that the marriage failed. Catherine never could understand her even a little bit.) Catherine needs to know where she stands, where she fits. She needs to be a part of something bigger. She thought marriage was that something. And then it wasn’t and she couldn’t understand how that could be allowed. That wasn’t how she understood the world. How someone like Anne could just… turn it all upside down that way.

Catherine hardly ever thinks about that now, of course. It’s done. 

But. In this weird now-and-always, looking back, Catherine’s glad they went close together in time. It would have felt wrong to hear what happened second-hand. Some messenger, a month later. Oh, didn’t you hear? They killed the queen. Not you, obviously. Or you’d know about it already. But her. The other one. 

No.

So yes. Catherine is glad she went first. She would have hated to know how Anne ended, when it happened. No one should go like that. Her quicksilver tongue, stilled in mid chatter. Swipe. Thud. End. Catherine couldn’t have lived with knowing how Anne died.

O.V.E.R. Totally. 

But now they do know how it ended, for all of them. And it just doesn’t matter. Because they’re back. They have their own lives, and a shared purpose. 

Being part of the six is great. Better than being the youngest of five, the way Catherine started. Definitely better than being the first wife to get the boot, when you don’t know where your place in the world is any more.

It’s all ancient history, yeah?

Except. It’s not, is it? It’s not history. It’s their now. It’s always their now. They have made this chance to tell their stories, dream their alternatives, live their lives a whole other way.

You know what Catherine wishes? She wish when Anne turned up at court, sparkling eyes and perky tilt to her… well, her pretty much everything… She wishes she’d smiled. Wishes she’d said, “Hi! Wow! We’re so glad you’re here. Show us your dancing! Tell us your jokes! Let’s French up this place a bit. Let’s have some fun!”

The jokes wouldn’t have all been kind. That’s not how Anne is. Catherine would probably have regretted being so open, regretted it often. But it would have been different. They would have broken the mould. That whole destiny thing wouldn’t have its claws in Catherine so hard. Maybe she could have made another way.

Catherine thinks… she thinks if she’d have done it that way, Anne would have seen what she was trying to do. Thinks she’d have smiled back. Think Anne would have told a dick joke and all Catherine’s Ladies would have gasped and expected Anne to get banished in disgrace. And Catherine thinks… she’d have laughed, into that horrified silence. Laughed loud, and from the gut. Because that’s what Anne does to her. Gets under her skin, into her guts, up her nose. Makes her laugh. Makes it seem like her fate that they should be forever entwined.

What would Anne have done, after that? Would it all have played out the same way? Doubtful. Catherine can see a different path, where the two of them banded together. Who needs Him? What good did he ever do the two of them? 

It could have been a different story. It still could. They’re still here.

Maybe it’s not over.


End file.
